Tuesday, August 29, 2017


All about my hat, a gift from Thomas Robert Higginson.   Ansted Moss composed and performed the music that I arranged, and also performed the vocals, derived from poems written by co-learners (members) of a graduate writing learning community. I was most eager to honor a most special hat. And lucky that a co-learner happened to write a poam about a "Fedora"

Sunday, August 20, 2017

I Want to Be

A terrible question often asked of people, children in particular, when they are far too young to answer given inexperience,

Those who ask are often seeking an answer that is an occupation or career:

"I Want to Be" a nurse.

"I Want to Be" a doctor

"I Want to be" a pilot.

etc.

What about states of being? --that is what comes to my mind, not a career.  I am more of a dreamer like "Olivia Pig"

"I Want to Be" a good person

"I Want to Be" compassionate

"I Want to Be" giving

"I Want to Be" honest

"I Want to Be" loving

"I Want to Be" forgiving.

When I was an instructor at Phillips Academy, my son was bombarded with this question.  He was only a toddler, and could not then answer effectively, according to responses expected by the asker. so I immediately wrote this book , that Jerry Pinkney, the illustrator reads on YouTube:




Tuesday, July 4, 2017


JUST RETURNED FROM MEXICO!

(Here is what I filmed upon my return to Detroit Metro Airport:


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8lDREuzrBQ&t=488s

I WAS THERE FOR THE DIVERSOS POETRY FESTIVAL!
in Mexico City!

What a wonderful time I had!

I read the poem, "If You see Something, Say Something", a collaboration written with a poetry friend of mine, his poem appeared first:

then came my poem of the same title, a collaboration published by The Fiddlehead of Canada (as follows:



--in response to: "If you See something, Say something"

                                        --Thomas Robert Higginson

       

"If you See something, Say Something


Banana"
                      

white shadow
crescent moon


Wax (ing)


Wax banana
Wax grapes, apples

in bowls
On my mother's dining room table


lunch

kitchen sink

I see this also

my father washing dishes
scalding water

his skin

down the drain

plates clean, heavenly,
full of banana water spots

we eat the shadows.

two of which
are my father's

diseased lungs


yet I float on clouds

into such a clean, pure kingdom
that nothing else matters

just a banana which I eat the moment I arrive.

Buddha

in suds.







copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved., initially published in "The Fidddlehead of Canada, a fine journal 

There is not a finer poet with whom to collaborate.  I am indebted to him for this poem, and always will be.

A photo of my father, the one my poem is about.  He died in 1980, before I had even published a book, (now I have thirteen, including a romance novel: New Kiss Horizon.  He never met his only biological grandchild, my son, who will be 26 this month.

                          mi padre.  

He was called, Mole (after the Mexican Sauce -moh-lay)




Friday, November 20, 2015

REMEMBERING TO FORGIVE! and thanks to Sperm Donor #513


A day to share with others, no matter what, and a day, like all days to be sure that all are forgiven!  That's what today is for me! -- as 2014 draws to a close, and as 2015 draws near closure I want all who have ever crossed my path to know that they are forgiven!  --Anything that has ever been done to me, for whatever reason: all is forgiven! because "language matters" --language of what we say, don't say! --language of how we hurt, heal, soothe; language of how we touch, how we interact, how we believe, how we praise, how we denounce, how we live, blame, 

--I don't want this day, this moment this season to end without my spreading forgiveness to all! --including (and especially Charles Jones: a reason for my spiraling): I  forgive him for being the first man to get me pregnant without my permission, without my consent; I forgive him for all of that; I forgive his brother Gregory, for introducing me to Charles, his older brother; I forgive them all.  I forgive Blondell; I forgive Everest Tucker, I forgive Michelle who I hope will have a good life without me. I will no longer pretend to be her mother, she has a living mother.  I forgive Dennis, a son  who I hope will also forgive me, no matter how or why he became a son, first baby I got to  raise as my own; my ex-spouse felt adoption would be "fair", neither one of us related; but I do point out that he was related to his niece, and that was a disastrous period of my life. I still wanted  to have a baby of my own, and I could, still wanted to experience pregnancy, and I did; thanks to a generous sperm donor.

Though he is nameless, I thank him so much for what he did, Donor 513, via Fairfax Cryobank: thank you very much.  If my son has siblings, they are all through you. All I know is that he sis Bangladeshi, and free of AIDS, all my ex-husband said to me, "Didn't I consider AIDS?"   This is my gratitude right here.  Though you don't know him, the son I had through you is marvelous in every way.. Perhaps someday you will meet.  He was born in the summer of 1991... I became pregnant in 1990 through Boston IVF, in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

                                                       first photo of my son



                                       Thylias enjoying the last weeks of pregnancy,
                                         North Andover, Massachusetts, 1991
                                                         
My ex-spouse forbade me from pursuing this unique pleasure, sought to deny me the opportunity to be pregnant because he couldn't accept his own infertility.  He must come to terms with whatever life brings.  I do not chose to have MS, but have accepted it....My physiological functioning is miraculous to be sure.  I survived an aneurysm rupture which also led to dissolution of the marriage, and while as a single woman, I haven't always made the best choices, I still like being single for the first time as an adult. Love will happen; I am not worried about that.

My ex-spouse couldn't deal with his own infertility, and took it out on me.  I forgive LT Randle, I forgive Dothlyn Smith, (for intruding into my  marriage), I forgive my ex-spouse who permitted , who wanted the intrusion of Ms. Smith into the marriage, and who lied that he ever fathered any pregnancies of mine --he fathered none.  I speak only the truth. --sorry if I didn't mention you by name --but you are in fact forgiven!

--Without becoming a doormat, I still forgive so many, all --and I hold no grudge; All are absolved
--I carry into 2015 none of what has happened to me  during my 60 years...

I am living a new life now, full of the challenges and unknowns of any life.  Mine is no different. This will be the last time that I need mention any of this.  Chapter is closed.  I will not be writing a memooir about being married.  I was much too young, a teenager.  and it's over now...
                                 New chapter in progress...

Girls, please try to avoid my mistakes.  On this day in the fall of 2015, I am 61, and here to tell you that there is joy beyond youth.

                                          Thylias now, age 61, the glow of joy beyond youth.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Jerry Pinkney Reads I Want to Be



My book, "I Want to Be" by Thylias Moss, illustrated by Jerry Pinkney

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Remembering (and serving) some tastes of Survivor Stew

MOXIE SUPPER: Remembering: REMEMBERING I don't want to remember, yet I do; I'd rather be asleep --as if I've eaten something incompatible with my syst...